She is France
by oooctooobeeer
Summary: Four lives. Four people that should have died, survive, and it changes everything. Musical/Movie Canon but also slight Au because of character survival. Mention of Marius/Cosette. MultiChapter
1. Chapter 1

Among the shrill echo of a wailing infant floating down the street, and the drunken song of swaying man balancing his weight against the building across, and distant clank of horse hooves knocking on the stone floor, there was a low, constant _thump, thump, thump_ that Enjolras did not notice until he bid a chatty Feuilly good night and they parted ways.

With every step he took down the dark street, the sound grew louder, until he came across the source in a dark alley.

Curiosity, despite himself, had lead him to take a wary step near the mouth of the alley, where he managed to make out the dim outline of a tall man's flattened figure thrusting against a rickety door.

As his eyes adjusted, he saw the small girl wedged between the man and the door; one of the man's large hands pressed over her mouth, pushing her cheek against the wood as he forced her to turn away.

Cold shock pulsed through Enjolras' limbs when he realized what he was squinting at.

The weight of the day's affairs had drained him of energy and his usual aptitude towards a sharp alertness was running sluggish. His insticts were leaden and late and before he could turn away, the girl's hollow, unfocused eyes rose from the floor and met his. Her startled expression betrayed her recognition of him.

_"I'd like you to meet someone, Enjolras," Marius' voice interrupted his thoughts before he had a chance to finish writing the last moment's note he was adding to that night's topic of discussion._

_With a stiff twitch of his mouth, Enjolras looked up, stifling an annoyed sigh._

_Standing beside Marius stood a dark, slender gamine with a playful smile. _

_"This is Eponine, my... friend. She is my neighbor," Marius leaned into him a fraction and whispered, "I invited her to stay for the meet tonight."_

_Enjolras nodded his permission, turning his attention back to his notes._

_"Welcome, Mademoiselle Eponine," he made a mark on his paper and set his pen aside, meeting the girl's dark eyes. "It will be interesting to hear your perspective on tonights topic. In fact, you could not have come on a better night," he turned to his notes with a small reverent smile. "Have you any political opinions?" He turned to the girl again and caught as her smile turned into a toothy grin. _

_She let out an indelicate snort and turned her head to the rest of the men in the room, "I'm only here for the wine." she confessed with a shrug and walked away. _

_Marius forced an embarrassed smile on her behalf that didn't reach his eyes. _

_Enjolras turned to him with a demanding glare. _

_"She was teasing." Marius uttered out. _

_Enjolras continued to glare at the boy in disbelief. _

_"She asked to come. Why else would she want to be here if she didn't care?" Marius breathed out in his defense as he turned to Eponine. _

_Grantaire was beckoning her over to his table with a drunken smile, pulling a chair next to him. "Mademoiselle, did my ears deceive me, or did you just say you... "_

_"And you though it a good idea to just bring her?"_

_Marius turned back to Enjolras briefly with a small chuckle. "Why not?"_

_Enjolras followed Marius' gaze across the room to the girl. She was leaning into Grantaire as he quietly whispered something near her ear. The waif let her head fall back as she guffawed into the air and clapped her hands with amusement. _

_"You can't be serious." Enjolras stated matter-of-factly as he stood and collected his things. The last thing they needed was a drunk gamine to further encourage Grantaire. He didn't dare give room in his mind to his other, more suspicious opinion on the girl. Marius was not a fool when it came to the secrecy and security of their group. Enjolras opted to put his faith in that. _

_"She is the people, Enjolras." Marius' tone had shifted from casual indifference to genuine care and the truth in his words took Enjolras by surprise. Especially coming from Marius. He gazed towards the girl one last time. Her head was tipped back as she gulped down a glass of wine thirstily. She finished at the same time as Grantaire. They both slammed their empty glasses on the table at the same time and simultaneously let out a wet chuckle. The small group that had gathered around their table cheered and howled at the pair. _

_"She is France."_

The man slammed into the girl one last time, exhaling a muffled grunt before pulling away quickly and flinging a few coins at her chest. They bounced off her and to the floor, rolling a few times before falling flat.

The dark alley swallowed the man's departing figure and Enjolras stood frozen, brows deeply furrowed as he stared at Eponine.

Despite the limited light that weakly illuminated the alley, Enjolras could make out that the girl's bottom lip was split by a bleeding cut and her chemise bore a tear across one arm. Her dark glare faltered and she let her gaze fall to the coins on the floor. With her chin held high and one hand flat against the wall for support, Eponine painfully reached down to pick up the coins.

Enjolras, finally able to move, turned away -struck by a wave a pity turning in his stomach- the way he had seen many turn away from the hungry beggars on the streets.

_"She is France."_

Marius' words echoed in his mind and he quickly turned back, about to speak, only Eponine had already slipped away, into the dark alley.

_She is France. _

**Hello! **

**In the last week I have been introduced to the movie, and the Broadway show. I have fallen in love with Eponine and Enjolras and have climbed aboard this odd ship. So here I am, writing a story on them without the slightest knowledge of French history or having ever read the Victor Hugo novel. **

**I have done some research and skimmed through my library's copy taking notes, but I doubt I'll read it cause its huge. So I welcome any advice and help from those who are savy on the book, language and history. **

**I have a whole little story thought out and depending on the reception, may or may not make it a longer story. **

**Please review and let me know what you think :)**


	2. Chapter 2

With feet as iron and her heart hanging low in her belly, twirling with anxiety, Eponine hurried down the street.

She could hear a muffled cacophony of overlapping conversations as she as climbed up the private stairway of the Cafe Musain. She stepped onto the top landing, through a cloud of smoke and searched the crowded room until her eyes fell on a group at the back. Marius was among them.

Courfeyrac noticed her first and let out a short, "Marius," nodding in her direction. The rest in the group, along with Marius, turned in her direction. Eponine darted her eyes away from Enjolras', which had, for the briefest of seconds, locked with hers, and met Monsieur Marius'.

"Eponine!" he gasped out as he hurried towards her.

"I have the address."

He gasped again, in jovial relief, and Eponine said, "Remember, you promised me something."

Marius offered her an offhand nod and fumbled into his pocket.

By the time Eponine realized what he was doing, he was already holding out five francs in his hand. Her hand caught his by the wrist with wounded determination and pushed it away from her; casting her eyes to the floor for fear they would reveal the anger she willed her tongue to hold back.

"I don't want your money." she said with a little sadness and a lot of insulted pride, finally meeting his eyes.

Marius seemed to not hear her at all, for he merely took a soft but urgent hold of her shoulders and begged, " Please, Eponine. Show me the way."

"Follow me, Monsieur Marius."

...

_General Lamarque was dead_. The news sunk quickly into him, like heavy stones in water, and an ardent fire burst inside of him.

"His death is the sign we have awaited," he declared to the quiet room which instantly roared with life. "On his tomb, the barricade shall rise!" he continued, and felt every cell in his body vibrate as the men cried out again. "And when we call, they shall come! The people will come!"

"Look here, Enjolras." Combeferre placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him away from the room full of inspired men as he stretched out a map on the table and began to mark the possible route of Lamarque's procession.

"Marius," Courfeyrac interrupted them in a low voice, and they all followed his gaze to the stairs where an emaciated figure stood.

It was Eponine.

Her eyes met Enjolras' briefly before turning to Marius.

Enjolras couldn't help the surge of annoyance he felt at the sight of her. She came with news of Marius' lady love, no doubt, and this was not the time for such distractions. Not tonight, out of all nights.

He watched their exchange for a moment, and saw the deep devotion in her eyes and the even deeper well of ignorance in his. Her hand came up suddenly and caught his wrist in mid air.

There was a coin in his fingers and Enjolras recalled the dim shimmer the coins gave in the alley floor all those many nights ago, before Eponine had snatched them up to her chest.

He blinked against the memory and found cold comfort in the fact that after tomorrow, France would be changed.

The two of them disappeared down the stairs and Enjolras turned to the group once more giving thoughts of Marius no more of his time and frustration.

That night, he spent it turning restlessly in his mattress, and only until the dawn came, did exhaustion settle in place of anxiety. But it came too late, and the time to sleep had passed him.

Mentally, he berated himself the whole walk to Courfeyrac's, knowing full well how much the lack of those precious hours of sleep would affect him on this, of all days.

But, when the time finally came, and he fired at the National Guard, his hand did not tremble and falter, but was as steady as it was precise.

His lack of sleep did not disorient him, and numb him to his surroundings as he had suspicion it might, but instead it sharpened his senses. Colors were vibrant and he could smell and taste the smoke in the air, and the gun powder and the promise of rain. He was too alert, too alive, too focused, that it was all too surreal.

The barricade rose swiftly and all fell into place at a hasty pace.

As he stood to examine the wall before him, a small creature at the base of the barricade caught his eyes.

With a coat too big and a cap clearly hiding a bundle of hair, the small girl dragged a large half of a table and piled it on a chair.

Enjolras stomped towards her with a set jaw and spoke low, but harshly as soon as he was behind the impudent girl.

"You need to leave."

She whirled where she stood, dark eyes wide with something bright and lively he had not noticed in them before.

"I won't." she stated.

Enjolras sighed, and turned to see if he could find someone else he could charge with seeing her out. Where in God's name was Pontmercy?!

"I know you believe you can be of some service, but trust me, Mademoiselle, you will only be in our way. I salute and admire your courage, even though it brinks on lunacy, but-"

"Lunacy?" she huffed out a mirthless laugh, "Monsieur, you are the lunatic."

Enjorlas blinked at her strange and rather ridiculous accusation and swallowed down his temper. "Mademoiselle," he whispered out, but the rest of his sentence died behind his lips as she took a step towards him and met his offended tone with her own angry one.

"They _won't_ come." she spat out in a whisper.

Enjolras clenched his jaw. "They _will_." he corrected her.

"They won't. You know they won't." she looked around at the men and up at the barricade. "You're a smart man, I've heard you speak. You know." she shook her head at him. "You know."

Enjolras felt more sorry for Eponine than he could deem possible at that moment.

She not only lead a miserable life, but a hopeless one too.

"They won't come and you're outnumbered. You need all the help you can get." she said to him and he merely nodded at her, giving her consent to stay because their was no use in wasting time arguing with her.

She had just as much a right as any man to chose how she lived or died.

**Hello!**

**Firstly, I want to thank the two reviewers who were so kind, not only to review my story, but welcome me to the fandom. **

**For those savy with both book and musical, you will notice I've included the essence from both the novel and the musical lyrics.**

**I have not read the book (yet) but I have skimmed through the parts with the barricade boys and Marius and Eponine to get a proper feel on them. **

**After next chapter though, it will be all me making up the story as I go. **

**Please review this chapter. I want to hear what you all think! **


	3. Chapter 3

Dark golden curls, heavy with rain, clung wetly to Enjolras' temples as he stood before a devastated Marius. The man cradled the dead gamine in his arms, lips pressed to her forehead.

The usually stoic leader blinked softly and turned away, nodding once at Joly.

_"No,"_

Everyone turned to a drunk Grantaire, frozen at the cafe threshold, half empty bottle in one hand, and all color gone from his face.

He stumbled towards Eponine, pushing Joly aside as he fell knees first on the muddy floor; yanking the twig-ish girl from Pontmercy's arms.

For a moment, he just looked her limp body up and down in panicked disbelief. Then, suddenly, he turned to Marius with accusing eyes.

"Why was she here?" he demanded, pushing strands of wet brown hair from Eponine's face. With two fingers he moved her slightly parted lips, as if trying to will her to take in a breath.

"Grantaire," Joly bent on the puddle besides the drunk man and tried to pry his hand from the dead girl's shoulder.

"She was here for you!" Grantaire spat out at Marius, whose tear glazed eyes were lost and unfocused. "She's dead because of you, you bastard!"

Courfeyrac and Feuilly caught Grantaire just as he had lunged himself at Pontmercy. They were lifted him off the floor, struggling with his violent tugs and shoves, when Gavroche stepped before him with red rimmed eyes.

"Stop it, stop it!" the boy cried out as he slammed his palms repeatedly at Grantaire.

Everyone, including Grantaire, fell silent and still at the sight of a frantic Gavroche.

When Joly tried to place a hand on the young boy's shoulder, he ceased his attack on Grantaire and sprinted away.

Grantaire closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, quickly following suit. He pulled free, turned from Eponine, to Marius, to Enjolras, before picking up his muddy bottle from a puddle, wiping his sleeve over his eyes and taking a miserable swig.

Joly gathered Eponine in his arms then, and started for the Cafe.

_"She is the first to fall,"_ Enjolras began in a reverent tone.

Joly felt a wave of surprise suddenly run through him when he felt warmth radiate from the bony body in his arms; even when she was soaked in icy rain. His brow twitched at a thought and he quickened his step. He stepped into the front room and set the girl on the floor.

Two fingers searched for her pulse and his heart skipped a beat when he found one.

He began to probe carefully around the wound and felt tight, stiffness. He heard the rustling of someone entering the room. Joly turned to find Bossuet.

He regarded Joly curiously, and then his eyes fell on the body.

"What are you doing?"

Joly took a beat to think, then swallowed hard as began to open the girl's chemise.

"Something inauspicious," Joly allowed as he pulled the fabric open.

Eponine had bound her breasts.

"Bring me water, that cloth there and my medic box."

"Is she alive?" Legles obeyed.

"She isn't breathing, but I detect a very weak pulse. The binds are constricting her lungs, but they keep the blood flow steady."

"Should I..." Legles started for the door but Joly shook his head.

"D-don't... don't mention this to anyone."

If there was any chance he could save her, then so be it, but Joly did not wish to give the men false hope. If they realized that their chances could be slim if they were wounded, their courage could falter during the long night ahead of them. Courage they needed to strengthen their will to go on fighting.

The man nodded and left Joly to his work, which the young medicine student, in turn, appreciated.

He opened the kit and dug around until he came across the scalpel. He rinsed his hands and with nervous fingers and slid the small tool across the tight, blood-stained cloth that clung tightly to Eponine's chest. It parted like old skin and immediately he heard Eponine take in the shaky ghost of a soft breath.

Joly exhaled a grateful sigh and began to pull away the blood stiffened binds, rinsing away the blood from the dark skin of the girl's ribs and breasts. He was fortunate that with breath came no consciousness and he could operate with more ease under the circumstances.

He found and exit wound, and so began to clean and sew the wound, turning Eponine to God's divine mercy.

...

The heavy fall of searching footsteps was punctuated by barking commands, and sudden shots throughout the fallen barricade.

Joly hugged his pistol to his chest and kissed the barrel, burrowing deeper into hiding.

Pressure had welled into his throat, as the sight of his dead and dying friends had dried up his courage.

Were it not for the three lives that depended on him, he would step out and meet his death with a heart full of sincerity.

A man struggled past him with a body slumped on his back and Joly recognized him. His face twisted in attempt to stifle a sob.

"Monsieur," he managed to weep out desperately, and the man stopped in his tired, urgent tracks and turned to the young medical student. "Monsieur, a hand," Joly's jaw quivered. "I beg of you. I have three with me, I... I don't think they have long. I... I beg you..." Joly clutched onto his weapon for dear life, feeling the thick, hot tears stream down his face.

The man hesitated for only a brief moment before nodding quickly and crossing to Joly, alert as a cat of his surroundings.

Together they carried four bodies; the three Joly was trying to save, and the one the man was carrying on his back; whom Joly had identified as Marius.

They set out in silence and haste, the voices of the national guard carrying through the walls and buildings... until they came to a dead end.

Joly set the bodies down and turned to the man, who had one body in his arms and the other curled over his shoulders like an oversized collar. The man's eyes darted everywhere until they stopped somewhere near the base of a wall.

"There," the man whispered and nodded in the direction of the floor.

The threat of death had push them forward, into this alley that held their means of escape. A sewer grate. A door leading them to the slimy, underground veins that connected the city.

Joly lifted the grate, and the man usher him into it with an urgent wave of his hand.

One by one, the bodies were fed into the hole, and one by one Joly failed to maneuver them properly. They slid down awkward and heavy, nearly pulling him with them. The bodies stopped coming after the third one and Joly felt his heart jump to his throat.

"Monsieur," he dared to whisper, feeling that his grip on the walls of the sewer was failing. "Monsieur?"

A small, terror weighed, selfish part of him wanted to flee when he heard the voices of the national guard echo down the tunnel and off the sewer walls.

Instead, he decided he would climb back up, hating the fact that if he was shot on sight, the filth below him would become his friend's death bed.

It never came to it though, for as soon as Joly had taken the first step up, the dim light that bled from the opening of the tunnel was eclipsed by one Marius Pontmercy.

His body fell hard and dragged Joly down with. They landed wetly on the dark wastes of Madame la Paris.

Marius' rescuer was not far behind, and once again, together, he and Joly dragged the four bodies forward, towards the promise of life.

...

They'd come to a dead end, yet again.

Valjean set the two bodies he carried against the grate and took in deep breaths of putrid air. He glanced to the boy behind him.

"We can't go back." He said when he noticed Valjean staring.

"No," he agreed, "we can't."

Joly exhaled sharply and began to examine the bodies he was trying to balance, then the bodies Valjean held against the grate.

"What is your name?"

The boy stopped and looked up.

"Joly," he said after a moment. "Olivier Joly."

"Jean Valjean."

The boy bowed his head slightly and said, "Thank you, Jean Valjean. It's a honor to have met you, even under the circumstances."

Valjean smiled.

He could not think of when the last time he had smiled was, the the pull of skin and tensing muscle around the mouth felt strange, but he welcomed it in this darkest of places on this darkest of nights.

The smile faded when a hand fell on his shoulder.

He pulled away swiftly and turned. Behind the bars that stood in the way of their freedon, a man was grinning widely at them.

"Well, what have I come across here? A quarrel, eh? Did jus' the both of yous take on them four?" He chuckled, eyeing the bodies with clear, greedy eyes. "I advice you to split we the goods three ways."

"Excuse me?" It was Joly who spoke out first, and Valjean could hear the tremble of wary fear in the boy's confused voice.

"Well, you can't very well squeeze through there, eh? And you see, I've got this key here," he patted his chest, "that fits in that keyhole right there."

Valjean squinted in the dark and realized he knew this man. It was Thenardier. He took an inconspicuous step back, so as to keep himself from being recognized.

"We didn't-" Joly began but Valjean held a finger out behind him and the young man caught on and fell silent.

Thenardier laughed. "So what do you say, split their goods three ways and I'll unlock this here grate and even help you dispose of the bodies."

"That won't be necessary." Valjean finally spoke in a low and curt tone, praying he would not be identified by his voice.

"Suit yourself, friend." Thenardier pulled the key that was hanging around his neck and held it up for them to see. When he did not move to unlock the grate, Valjean knew he expected his "cut".

"Their pockets are empty. We checked." He said.

"Tsk tsk tsk..." Thenardier snatched the key out of their reach and was about to turn away when Joly caught his attention. Valjean turned to find him digging through his pockets.

He produced a golden pocket watch.

In the dim tunnel, it looked like an expensive, beloved heirloom.

Joly did not hesitate to cross to the grate and hold up the watch in the same manner Thenardier had held up the key to them.

"Empty pockets, eh? Or did you steal it from someone else?"

Joly did not answer the man, only held up his offering, and waited for the man to unlock the door.

"You are wise to keep your secrets,"Thenardier pushed the key into the lock, but did not turn it until Joly had dropped the watch in the offered hand squeezed through the bars. The action was instantaneous. The golden watch landed on the grimy palm, the key turned and Valjean pushed it open.

Before they had stepped through, Thenardier had disappeared into the tunnel's shadows, perhaps feeling he could not stand a chance against two men he thought had murdered four.

Without another word, they continued forward.

...

By the time they were out of the sewers, dawn was upon them. Valjean, clearly drained of all strength, instructed Joly to hide with the bodies, and disappeared into the deep blue that was Paris at that still hour.

He returned after a few minutes, with a large wheel barrel that Joly could only assume had been stolen. He did not question the man about it.

They loaded the bodies, one by one, save for Marius.

"Leave him." Valjean instructed sternly as Joly reached out a hand to the boy.

"Monsieur?"

"He is my responsibility. My duty, and mine alone."

"He is my friend... I can't..."

"Then I can promise you I won't let your friend die. Not when it would mean the death of the man my Cosette has given her heart to."

"Cosette?" Joly understood now.

"Where will you take them?" Valjean questioned him. Joly parted his lips to speak, but his mind was cleared of any thought at that moment. He shrugged with panic.

"You know the Rue Plumet?" Joly nodded, "Go to number 55. It is yours now. The house is well hidden, and you can use it for as long as you need. Take them there, and hurry. Dawn is upon us."

Joly felt the tears come again. "Monsieur Valjean, I am in your eternal debt."

"As I am in yours," he placed a hand to his shoulder, "May God bless you."

"And you, monsieur."

With that, Valjean picked Marius up with an unnatural ease, and slipped into the blue shadows of the Paris night, leaving Joly desolate and overwhelmed; with three bodies in a cart and an address.

**NOTE:**

**So, I know this chapter was mostly Joly, but i had to explain how he managed to escape with three bodies.**

**Plus, I love that man.**

**Also, it is choppy, but I didn't want to get too into detail about that night for two reasons: this is an Enjolras/Eponine story, not a Joly story, and some more key elements of that night will be revealed later.**

**I promise more E/E next chapter, which I am almost done with. **

**Please do not forget to review. It means so much because it encourages me to continue to write and it lets me know people are actually reading and liking what I write.**

**Thank you, and enjoy.**


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